Marked (Marked #3) (18 page)

“Right this way, Ms. Owens.” He held out his hand for me to shake, which I accepted. Tall, tanned, and somewhat handsome came to mind as I looked at him. Hair cropped close to his scalp, with just a little bit left atop for him to slick back. Business casual with an inviting smile. Still, he did nothing for me.

Talan had cemented that truth in my head the day I walked into Cox Tattoos. It’d never been clearer; I liked bad boys. A man that was tall, strong, had tattoos, and not just because they “made him look bad ass” or were cool. I didn’t like the hipster shit.

They had to mean something.

One who didn’t give a fuck about his appearance yet always managed to look delicious. Tatt boy always claimed I was his perfection, but truth was, he was mine. Perfect man for me.

“Nice to meet you….” I trailed off since he’d forgotten to give me his name.

“My apologies. I’m Timothy, and I’ll be assisting you in setting up for your deposition. Do you need anything before we head inside?”

“Bottle of water would be nice.” God, would it. Every time I swallowed, it felt as if I’d gulped down a bucket of sand. Uncomfortable.

“Of course, Ms. Owens. I’ll get that for you right away. Please follow me.” The door behind me closed. Inside the office with a few strategically placed cubicles, we were alone.

Without further instructions, he turned and walked away. Not looking behind him once to see if I’d followed. Silence, the room was quiet except for low clack of my sandals against the marbled floor.

Once again, my palms began to sweat.

“Jesus, it’s quiet,” I muttered under my breath.

“Here we are.” At the end of the long hallway he paused, right outside of a room with an opened door. “Take a seat, and I’ll be back with that water.”

Inside what looked to be a conference room, it was bare. A long table sat in the center with a very outdated phone atop it. The kind they used in all eighties movies with different buttons on the side for their respective extensions. On the left, in the far corner, a small nineteen-inch TV/DVD combo was placed on a wheeled cart. Those were a rare commodity, not see seen since my high school days.

White walls with not a single framed picture to lessen the oppressive vibe inside the space.

A couple of floor-to-ceiling windows took up the opposite wall. They all looked out into another building across the yard. Fantastic view of a structured concrete façade.

“Here you go, Ms. Owens.” At the sound of his voice, I jumped. Startled, I’d been so caught up in categorizing the room I was in that I missed his reentry. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I croaked while extending my hand out for the water in his hands. “I was lost in thought.”

“Do you need a minute?” Concern tinged his tone.

“No.” Uncapping the bottle, I took a few sips before pulling out the chair I wanted to sit in. “Is this okay?”

“You’re fine.” He smiled. “They’ll be calling you soon—”

“What do you mean...call?” I interrupted. Confused when I figured I’d be in here with a few other people. At the very least, the district attorney and Janice’s public defender, who was hell bent on finding some kind of fault in me.

“I’m going to take it upon myself to apologize for them. They’re both busy today with multiple court appearances, and it would’ve been impossible for them to be back in time. To solve that mistake, and not cancel on you, we will be doing a phone conference. When the phone rings, all you need to do is press this button here.” Taping the one in question once, he placed the old machine in front of me and turned to leave.

“That’s it?”

“Just one more thing, ma’am.” I’d never been ma’am before, and it felt weird. Off. “I need you to place your right hand over this.” From a small shelving unit behind him, he pulled a bible and held it toward me. “Hand right over the center and when prompted, answer.”

Following his instructions, I did as asked and placed my hand atop the holy book. Palm to cover. “Ready.”

He nodded. “Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”

“Thank you. You can take a seat.” Bible back in place, he offered me a small smile and proceeded to exit. Just as he placed a foot outside, he turned my way once more. “Don’t get nervous or feel intimidated. You are the victim here, and the district attorney knows this. She respects and wants you to be comfortable. If you need a minute, tell her as much. It’ll all be okay.”

Then just as he came, he went and I was alone.

Inside a room that felt overwhelmingly thick with the tension I felt. The clock on the wall ticked. Another three...

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Before the last blaring tone faded, I picked up. “Hello.”

“Ms. Owens?” A woman’s voice came through the line. It was soft, yet held an edge of authority that caused me to sit up straighter inside the empty room.

“Yes, ma’am. That’s me.” Grasping the bottle in front of me, I took another sip. “Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon.” The smile in her tone helped me become more at ease. Not completely, but better. “Before we begin, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m District Attorney Angela Soto, and I’m the lead in the State vs Janice Moore’s case.”

“I’m sorry.” Clearing my throat, I took a moment to gather my thoughts before I asked the question that’d been plaguing my mind. “When it comes to the legality of my situation, I’m lost. Why is the state involved?”

“It’s the state’s responsibility to keep our city safe. In your case, Ms. Owens—”

“Sorry to interrupt, but please call me Maya. I’d feel more comfortable.” Shit. Why didn’t I wait until the DA was finished speaking before presenting my request?

“Maya it is, then.” There wasn’t any reproach in her reply, and I let out the breath I was holding. “Your particular case holds an attempt on your life with a repeat offender. Something the state cannot and will not overlook. We will be prosecuting Ms. Moore, and you will be subpoenaed to testify on the state’s behalf.” Her set determination was clear. Janice was fucked. “Now, before we continue, I’d like to thank you for joining us today via phone. I’m very sorry I wasn’t able to make it back in time to do this in person.”

“Completely understandable with your busy schedule, ma’am.” The wetness on my palm made me feel uncomfortable, and I rubbed them against the cotton of my dress.

“Thank you for your understanding. On the phone with us today is Ms. Moore’s public defendant, Gene Clark.” He didn’t speak, and neither did I. “The purpose of today’s deposition is to go over with you both what occurred the day in question and some documented incidents filed with your local police last year.”

“Understood.” Let the fucking games begin. Again.

“I would at this time like to inform you of the fact that everything said today is being recorded by a court reporter. My assistant already informed me of swearing you in; do you with a conscious mind understand what you have affirmed?

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to proceed? Any questions before we do?”

“None.” Fingers tightened for a moment around the plastic bottle in my hand, and a small amount spilled from over the top. Placing the bottle next to the phone, I wondered what would happen if I accidentally ruined the outdated machine. Would they replace it? A tempting thought.

Looking around, I noticed a small box of Kleenex and used a few to clean up the mess I’d made.

“Very well.” Through the line I heard the rustle of papers and the clack of what I can only imagine to be a very loud computer’s keyboard. “Let’s begin with the day of the attack. Where were you that day and why?”

“I was at school…had been at FIU’s Biscayne campus since ten o’clock in the morning the day she attacked me. From behind, might I add. We’d been scheduled to take a kayak tour over to Oleta State Park and collect samples until early afternoon. The purpose of that particular excursion was to determine if the waters surrounding the park had been contaminated by the same dangerous bacteria that had been in the news as of late.”

“Who was with you while you were out, and I need a time frame, both time you left and returned to your department’s lab?” Another rustle of sheets after the attorney spoke.

“Out that day were four other students, myself, our kayak instructor, and Professor Baron.”

“I’m going to pause right there. Why an instructor?” This time it was Janice’s lawyer that spoke up. His entire tone—vibe—rubbed me wrong.

“It’s a safety issue the school has implemented for students who use the kayaks owned by them. They are free to use, but you have to reserve a time frame and clear the schedule with the instructor first.”

“Where did you take the kayaks?” District Attorney Soto asked before he could.

“Oleta State River. That’s where we were from the hours of eleven in the morning until about two thirty that afternoon. They’d informed us at the park of bad weather coming our way, and Professor Baron cancelled the rest of our trip.”

“So, you were back on campus at 2:30 pm?” she confirmed with me.

“Give or take fifteen minutes. We were rowing back to campus, after all.”

“Understood. Then what?”

“Hold on,” Mr. Clark interrupted. “In the police report, it states that you were at your car in the early evening hours. What were you doing in the hours unaccounted for between your return to campus and the time of incident?”

“Sir, just because the field work’s done for the day doesn’t mean we could leave as soon as we returned. There was equipment to clean—sanitize and reorganize into their correct storage.” If he couldn’t detect the bite in my tone, then he was being obtuse on purpose. Even the district attorney noticed. I could tell by the small chuckle she released, only to stop and cough. “The samples weren’t tossed just because the day was cut short. They were tested. Categorized and the data entered into our files. After, everything used was tossed, recycled if we could, or washed and sanitized. Our lab cleaned and then, and only then, were we free to leave for the day. I exited the classroom that day at five in the evening.”

“Okay. Thank you.” District Attorney Soto typed something, paused, and then typed in silence for a few more seconds. “Did you head for the parking garage as soon as you were released? Please, if it’s not too difficult, walk us through the events as you remember them.”

“After class, I walked across campus and straight for my car. It was as I was putting my keys into the door that I received the first of three blows to the head. I had plans that night with my boyfriend and was meeting him to grab some dinner before we retired for the night at his home. It should be more than obvious and not needed to be explained in full detail as to what our night would entail.”

“Not necessary,” she replied. “Is this boyfriend of yours the Talan Cox that Ms. Moore was…infatuated with?” The woman was just being polite. Janice was bat shit crazy for him, obsessed to the point of trying to commit murder.

“Yes, he is.” In my lap, I wrung my hands. Not because I was nervous, but because we were getting to the culmination of this mess.

“And you met him how? When? Where?” Clark’s pushiness bothered me. It wasn’t the question per se, but the way in which they were asked. You can call someone a whore without the word ever having left your lips; all that was necessary was the implication.